


The Bird asks, the Pan does not give

by adam_anellaer



Series: The Bird and the Pan [2]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), Peter Pan & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-09
Updated: 2016-01-09
Packaged: 2018-05-12 19:42:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5678272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adam_anellaer/pseuds/adam_anellaer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oh, yes… Snow-days… They were just as lovely as she remembered: the prospect of having an entire day to play out in the fluffy white mater, all the beauty and joy associated with it!</p><p>For that day, the girl hadn’t been the Mother, nor the Bird, nor the prisoner; she had been Wendy, teaching the Boys some games, participating in others, and overall, having the time of her life!</p><p>Ah, just like she remembered!</p><p>...Except for the horrible week that followed...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bird asks, the Pan does not give

**Author's Note:**

> I got some lovely people ask me to continue the previous piece, and now, more than a year later, here it is. I truly hope that the remaining DP fans out there like it! 
> 
> Enjoy :D

Oh, yes… Snow-days… They were just as lovely as she remembered: the prospect of having an entire day to play out in the fluffy white matter, all the beauty and joy associated with it! The celestial creatures created by a mere wave of members while lying down, the short men born from the rolled accretion of frosty flakes, the thrilling sleigh rides and the epic battles – the male juvenile population of the land seemed to prefer the latter pair. All of it contributed to one magnificent day where for the first time in decades, Wendy Darling managed to truly be a child again – which was somewhat curious, for wasn’t that the sole purpose of the blasted island? For her it had come out with the complete opposite effect, robbing her of her innocence quite savagely.

But let us think about that no more. For that day, the girl hadn’t been the Mother, nor the Bird, nor the prisoner; she had been Wendy, teaching the Boys some games, participating in others, and overall, having the time of her life!

Ah, just like she remembered!

...Except for the horrible week that followed...

One small detail that her privileged childhood had spared her from – with warm garments and the constant scrutiny of a deeply caring mom – where the nasty effects of long exposure to almost sub-zero temperatures.

Mere children as they all were, and with the appointed Mother playing as a child herself, there was no one to call them inside when their lips turned purple or yelling at them to please put on another layer. There were no scarfs or mittens in Neverland. Those were destined for more tender youth. Here, the few who dared to express their discomfort would be eliminated in the natural – _ruthless_ – order of things. So everyone kept laughing, and running, and fighting, and rolling: at least the movement kept the shivers at bay.

Though Wendy Darling was another case: she was just a foolish, foolish girl.

So when she became sick together with the majority of the camp, she had no one to blame but herself. Who in their right mind would think it wise to spend hours upon hours in the freezing cold with only a light nightgown and a soaked cloak to cover one’s self?  
In the end, it hadn’t come as much of a surprise when she could barely stand from the shivers quaking over her tiny form, all extremities completely unfeeling and in the need of further examination to discharge the possibility of some parts being lost to frostbite. (Oh god, she was supposed to be the sensible one!)

The bunch had slowly made their way into the familiar – and warm – jungle, just managing to huddle together around the roaring bonfire.  
Wendy, making it only thanks to the steady grip of the scarred blond – ‘Seriously Darling, I can’t believe you’ve been barefoot the entire time!’ – ordered the Lost Ones to change into dry wears, and there they all stayed, trembling around the dancing flames, wondering just how close they could really get until the damage done by the blaze was more painful than the slow thaw of their members.

Of course, all that shivering stopped – or at least they attempted to – when the Pan languidly stepped into the clearing, a delighted gleam in his eye and a smug curl to his lips.  
(Except for Wendy; she was beyond any conscious control of her motions…)

The boy-king seemed to revel on his loyal followers’ distress, a huge ‘I told you so!’ echoing on each of his haughty moves.  
And when an arched eyebrow and a conceited smirk were sent in the quivering girl’s direction, the fury she felt boiling in her insides was almost enough to bring her right out of her hypothermic state. Unfortunately, the drowsiness she was feeling made her half-attempt of a glare fall ridiculously short.

The sniggering could be heard all the way from the wooden throne.

With the little strength she had, the Bird tried to break her numb mind out of its stupor, focusing all her concentration on a detailed and vivid image.  
Soon enough, she felt the burning heat touching her colorless palms and opened both orbs to see the steaming cup of hot cocoa held hardly-steady on her fierce grip.  
She lifted her eyes just in time to see the ones from the Boy narrowing from their previously widened state.

Her smile was quickly hidden behind the rim of the mug, scorching liquid touching bluish lips, but the Pan could see it clearly in the defying stare that never broke from his own.

The girl absently registered the uncomfortable shuffling of the others around her.  
The delicious smell had quickly spread all through the camp, and the boys alternated between staring desperately at the beverage in her hands and pretending not to see it at all.  
No one was stupid enough to conjure one of his own or asking Mother to do it for them. There was only one other person besides its King, that knew – or dared – to use the peculiar characteristics of the island for her own personal gain. It came as no surprise that said person would be none other than the uncrowned-Queen. But even in her dozy state, she knew that sharing her little trick with others was pushing it too far.  
And that’s why as soon as some part of her muscular coordination returned, the blond girl got up and without sparing the scowling boy a glance, retired to some cozy niche in a tree, where she could finish her drink in peace without having to feel the weight of all those stares turning it sour.

 

That’s when the sneezing started.

High-pitched sneezes would abruptly leave her body, making her recoil every time the noise echoed through the forest, sure that the jungle cats would hear her too. (God, even the pirates, all the way on their uncomfortable cots on board the Jolly Roger, must be wondering what with all the noise!)  
By some miracle, she survived the night.

When the morning came, she almost wished she hadn’t...

The aching in her throat made swallowing and breathing so excruciating that the alternative appeared to be increasingly more appealing. And to add to the already incredibly pleasant symptoms, there seemed to be an entire clan of tiny erratic Lost Boys playing drums inside her skull.  
So it was with a runny nose and the feeling that she had indeed been fleeing from jungle cats all night long, that a very unwell Wendy Darling sluggishly made her way back to the camp.

Imagine her surprise - breath-stealing even, though maybe it wasn't from the surprise at all... - when, spread all over the places they could find, boys with red noses and groggy eyes stared back at her.  
And that might have been the moment when the full scale of the sheer stupidity of their actions hit her square in the chest - although... that also may not be solely related to her overwhelming guilt. 

Her mind was, however, far from such evaluations at the time. As fast as she could - which in her state was not very fast at all - the Darling girl made her way to her terrible-looking boys. The sound of sputum-filled coughs, ragged breathing and lots of sneezes echoed around the clearing, as the girl's clammy palms landed on various foreheads - and cursing right after when her own body temperature was way too high to evaluate others.  
Nevertheless, she got right to work: every boy was to lie down and try and get some rest, all the while consuming lots of fluids - water, juicy fruit, whatever! Those who could hunt - blessed few whose strength hadn't failed them, and now prided themselves on being tougher than the rest of the bed-ridden bunch - where to go out and capture wild chickens, which Mother would use in order to make some kind of healing concoction that all mothers new about.

Yeah..., Wendy thought, breathless, feverish, but satisfied. She could handle this!

That's when most of the little ones started throwing up her chicken soup. Wendy was trying to reach everyone at once, fatigued as she was and with no help at all from the older ones who deemed it weak to help their ill companions. Or worse, those who deemed it weak to be helped themselves! Wendy was about to blow a fuse with the latter. Maybe this was because one of those unrelenting ones was none other than Felix, whose state seemed to worsen by the minute, and from Wendy's point of view, he had gotten himself so severely ill thanks to nobody but herself. Yes, because it was thanks to her that he had been standing there in the snow without even a sodding cloak to cover him! All of it because she was this incredibly foolish girl who didn't think twice before getting out garbed only in a nightgown! 

"This is all my fault..." the curly haired whined with a huff, sitting down next to a runny nosed Felix. "And you were right: winter is horrid!"

"It has its good's and bad's..." he paused as a chill cursed trough his body. "Most things do..."

And they stared, for a while, too fatigued to do anything else. The sight before them sure was a pitiful one... The Darling girl felt her heart clench with worry and guilt.

"Have you seen him yet?"

The scarred blond shook his head.

"Not since last night. After you were gone he got tired of all the coughing and sneezing quickly." And then his piercing gaze landed on her for a second. "Reminds him of death, I guess..."

"Good for him!" the girl scolded primly, "He probably wouldn't have helped, even if he were here!"

And then something that could have been both a smirk and a grimace morphed the boy's lips.

"He would if you asked him to."

At this, the other turned so quickly on the fallen trunk they were using as a seat, that the entire world spun four times plus one, and she had to grip the older boy's shoulder in order not to fall square in the dirt.  
When she came to her senses once more, the Darling's first born was glaring at Felix with the same indomitable fire that had ultimately conquered the Pan's supposedly nonexistent heart.

"But then he would win, wouldn't he?"

The two of them seemed to register the weight of her bitten-out statement at the same time.  
And the small ascending of the blond's eyebrows could in nothing be compared to the utmost shock splayed on the girl's features, all widened orbs and gaping lips.

"I'm so sorry! I don't now what came over me!" she gushed, the shameful blush adding to her already feverishly flushed face. "Your health is no game! Everyone's health is no game!"

That heartless bastard almost bid her into being just like him, didn't he? Oh, but he would taunt her for decades! She absolutely abhorred proving him right! The Boy (surprise of surprises) was the sorest winner!

But... but that's why she was Wendy, why she was Mother, the mature one of the bunch! She was the one who had to know how to put silly childish games aside for the greater good!

So it was with such ideals in her heart that the white-clad girl slowly arose from her watchful position, not from the lack of passion but rather from her physical inability to portrait more abrupt behaviours.

And off she went, stomping purposefully towards the dense jungle with a wolf-teethed boy in mind. And something told her - years of experience probably - that those same teeth would be bare out for everyone to see the minute he realized his little Bird had flown right back crying for help...

  
...

  
..

  
.

 

She knows there's really no purpose in going out into the thick bushes in hope of finding the boy. He was so interwoven with the island that it made him difficult to simply stumble across. It was like he was nowhere and everywhere all at once; and most of the time, the boy's seemingly innate awareness of her every move - that last mock at her freedom and her persona, because he must deem her incredibly stupid if he thought she wouldn't feel the bars of her custom-made cage, even as thoroughly disguised as they were - irked the little Darling girl so much that she often considered not leaving the frilly insides of her tree-house, just to spite him. But today was one of those rare, rare days when she was glad of how easy the land's attention made reaching out to him be.

"Peter!" the voice came stronger than she'd hoped - somewhat nasal, though that was expected - and so she continued, with arms crossed and a tapping foot. "Do you not want to come down and see just how bad I got it too?"

The leaves surrounding her trembled with his mirthful mischievous crow.

"Only to hear you say I was right all along, my Darling!" came the somewhat ominous response.

And then from right behind her:

"You should have learned by now that the Pan always is."

The hot breath suddenly tickling the skin right under her ear would once have made the girl squeal; and the fact that not the slightest shocked shiver crossed her body, clearly illustrated for just how long she had been putting up with the Boy's ways.

But then the sweetened words he spoke registered in her brain and all feelings of triumph shrunk before the irking truth: The Pan is always right...

Yes, that was the game wasn't it? The awful boy would state it and the rebellious girl would do everything in her power to prove him wrong. Simply a power play...

But then images of ill boys - stupidly loyal to a not-King who delighted in their misery - flooded her mind; she felt an unbidden anger boil inside her, heating her more than the fever already had.

Because, although this time - who was she kidding, every goddam time! - her tender heart made her lose the game, she had an entire stroll through the woods to come to terms with the fact that quitting the game was the right - the _mature_ thing - to do. Now her frustration wasn't aimed at herself and her motherly softness. It was aimed at the heartless creature standing behind her. For if to Peter it was nothing but a game, their suffering was very real.

She twirled around, sporting the detached expression that years of watching the smirking boy had taught her. Because if there was one thing she'd learn was that the child-shaped devil seemed to feed on her very emotions, thus it was crucial she'd shown him none.

"Won't you help your dear followers, Peter?" She disguised her voice as the little girl's she appeared to be.

And of course the other, being the greatest actor himself, simply rolled with it. He strolled around her, hands clasped behind his back, seemingly relaxed, but Wendy knew he was circling her like a predator would a prey.

"Why should I? They brought this upon themselves." And he suddenly halted, turning to her with a wolfish grin. "Or was it you?"

For all she would rather admit, the other's words hit right and true (as they always did.)

The pain destroyed her apparently careless demeanour, the girl practically bristling with clenched fists and blazing eyes.

"Are you ready to lose boys just because of- of a silly indulgence?"

"Oh, so you admit it was a bad idea?"

"That's _so_ not the point, Peter!"

"That's the _sole_ point! I said winter was stupid and I was right! And you, my little Bird, were wrong..." and he came to whisper in her ear again. "Seems your Winter Wonderland isn't so wonderful after all..."

The white-clad girl simply turned back to face him with a scoff.

"The snow has nothing to do with it! Following that train of thought, everything on this blasted island is a constant threat to their lives! No Peter, my only mistake that afternoon was allowing myself to be a _child_ for the first time since I got here!" she huffed and after a moment of silence, the jab came out with a tiny smirk of her own. "Seems your perfect Neverland isn't so perfect after all..."

That efficiently wiped the sharp grin right out of his sharp face, leaving him all but hissing. (And the fact that he wasn't on the girl's throat the moment those words left her lips, told the more observant bystander just how much the Bird really meant to him.)

"No, don't dare come about blaming it on _my_ island! You aren't a child only because you don't want to be!"

That got said nonchild twirling indignantly back to face him, fire crackling in her eyes and that same passion making her shout come out much more shrill than she would have liked.

"Who assigned me as Mother?"

And the cool detachment covered the other one once again, who dismissed her statement with a scoff and a wave of his hand.

"Come on, you used to love playing mother!"

"It isn't really playing anymore if you have to take care of everything for real!"

"Then don't be Mother. Mothers aren't that necessary anyway! I've done pretty well without them!"

With that she snorted, arms crossed tightly and an altogether superior air to her.

"That's debatable..."

When the mighty Pan answered, it was with tightly clenched fists and tightly clenched teeth, choosing - in a show of great self-control - not to address the muttered jab, but otherwise continuing the conversation. (Deep down, he secretly admired her more witty persona... )

"I've already told you Wendy-bird: if you're not satisfied with your current role, leave it!"

"Of course, last afternoon was a good proof of how well that went!" she cried again, gesturing in the general direction of the camp.

That got the Boy to suddenly curse and cover his face in exasperation, before turning abruptly back to her with a deep frown on his face.

"Didn't you have a good time?"

"Well, yes, but-"

"Then stop worrying so much! You sound like a _grown up_!" Of course, the last words were said with all the disgust that he could gather.

And suddenly, Wendy felt very, very tired, the pounding in her head still relentless, and all the aches in her body slowly crawling back into place, now that the fire in her was gone.

She went to sit by a large root, for her sense of balance couldn't be trusted any longer; with her head resting in the humid bark, and eyes suddenly dropping closed, the Bird could only sigh, very quietly.

"What do you expect me to do, Peter? Leave them off to their own luck?"

The boy continued marching carelessly before her, oblivious - or choosing to be - to his Wendy's state, a smirk back in its rightful position.

"Of course!" He said with a shrug "That's what I do."

"But...but they're in that state because of _me_! They're my responsibility!" she whined rather weakly, blue gaze fixing back in the mirth-filled one of the boy.

"Why should they be? Wendy, they all knew my thoughts on the matter and they went anyway! It's on their shoulders."

And was he... was he trying to comfort her? Trying to take away the guilt that blemished his Bird's eyes? If he was, neither of them was conscious of it at the time.

Well, maybe he was... After all, he liked a fiery Wendy much better than a broken one (as much as the occasional shatter was no one's fault but his). Her fury and her rage made him laugh and taunt, whereas her sorrow and grief, like the one that laced her words right now, only made something churn in his stomach or caused his chest to clench uncomfortably.

"They got sick, Peter... They got sick because I forgot to play Mother..."

However, there was only so much comforting his nature allowed him to perform. So Peter Pan did what Peter Pan does best: he fished out for her anger.

"Well, I warned you too."

And the combination of his tone and the haughty smirk on his face managed to successfully get a murderous glare from the sitting girl.

"So you'll just chant 'I told you so' while your band withers away in coughing fits?"

Oh, how he loved those flushed cheeks together with blazing eyes. (Though it didn't occur to him that the flush may not be due to the rage at all.)

The boy proceeded with a shrug, the grin widening, if such thing was possible.

"The ones worthy enough to live will survive."

It got the desired reaction.

"How can you say that?" the girl sputtered. And the Bird didn't simply jump to her feet right away because she would most certainly fall in her face shortly after if she did. "Doesn't your wrenched heart even value loyalty, if it lacks the ability to genuinely care? What about Felix?"

"I'm sure he'll make it." he continued in that dismissive tone of his. "He would disappoint me greatly if a mere cold was the thing to beat him."

Wendy could only stare in gaping disbelief. Then, very quietly - the flame extinguished once more - she concluded:

"You really won't help, will you?"

The Pan fixed her with one of those piercing gazes of his, one arched eyebrow and an almost feral grin splitting his face.

"Well, not out of a spontaneous will, I won't..."

Suddenly she understood: her admitting his victory wouldn't be enough this time. He either wanted an exchange (And he must think her really dumb if he believes she'll ever fall for that; it would be literally making a deal with the devil) or he wanted her to completely surrender the last bits of self-love she held on to: he wanted her to beg. But more than that, he wanted to see which half of her won out: the selfless Mother, with an ever-caring heart, or the taloned Bird, who still flew free, just out of the boy's reach, despite all his efforts to put her in a cage.

And the truth is that Wendy didn't know which choice would make her win, in his eyes or in hers.

Either way, all these games were ever more exhausting to her, the pounding in her head having reached such heights that she couldn't even think anymore.

And her conscience would probably nag her relentlessly later, but what she did was carefully rise from her sitting position, trying to look as dignified as her poor condition would let her.

Staring him dead in the eye, the urge to vanquish the bane of her existence the only thing keeping her up straight, the girl spoke.

"Then don't."

And with that, the Bird marched away, a flurry of white frills merging with his green.

He would see! She would show him how very much unnecessary he was to her!

And the satisfaction that arose from the growls that reached her through the leaves - the mighty Pan certainly fuming at being so unceremoniously dismissed - made the aches and the tremors almost disappear.

After all, Wendy Darling was a Storyteller. And everyone knows that the best Storytellers are those able of invariably making others utterly and completely _believe_...

**Author's Note:**

> There will probably be a third and last part to this. 
> 
> Please tell me what you think about it! ;)


End file.
